The night had a different color than usual. Not black, but a pale gray that hung over the streets as if someone had dusted the sky with ash. Lina pulled her hood deeper over her face as she walked through the alleys. Every step was a lie. She had told Sabine she would be studying at Mirella's. She had answered Markus's math question with a nod. Tom had called out asking if she was going in goal, and she had smiled. All of it was false.
The note in her jacket pocket was crumpled, the writing still clear: Come. No date, no place. But she knew where to go.
It wasn't the warehouse from the trial by fire. Today the path led further out, past abandoned railway tracks and rusty fences. There, where the city lights barely reached, stood another building: a former factory hall, larger, more modern, with tall windows milky with dust. Expensive cars with tinted windows were parked at the entrance. Men in jackets whose hands were always in motion, as if they needed to control the air.
